


(welcome to the madness)

by minorseventh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Free Verse, I can't get over Yurio's EX, M/M, dj!otabek, or the unsubtle Otabek appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minorseventh/pseuds/minorseventh
Summary: It wasn't a pair skate, per se, but between the two of them, it was like a dance that pushed and pulled with a force the audience could not see.(And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.)





	

Yuri grabs his hand before Otabek can walk back to his motorbike.

"Wear this jacket tonight, okay?"

Otabek hums in agreement, a smile lifting the corners of his eyes. There's no way he would say no, anyways, even if his coach recommends always going out in either a tracksuit or an actual suit at all times to preserve an immaculate public image, because since when did he ever care about the audience judging his sense of style? Besides, it  _is_ a good jacket. Yura has good taste in that respect.

Both of them stare at each other for an eternal instant before Yuri breaks the connection, looking down at his feet. He smirks one last time before parting with a small wave over his shoulder, saying nothing.

Otabek kind of wishes he had.

∞

The instant he walks out, a hush falls upon the arena. The ice is lit up in a frenzy of painted reds and blues, like blooming purple bruises on a flawless first snowfall.

Yuri bows his head once, cradling his arms close to his chest, looking impossibly vulnerable for a fleeting moment that Otabek wants to reach out and—

As if he can sense Otabek's concern, Yuri suddenly looks up, the line of his pale skin starkly white against his black leather jacket, and even though his eyes are hidden by designer shades, Otabek can somehow tell that they lock eyes. 

A city's worth of people present to watch the performer, and yet he has eyes only for one person.

Otabek is drowning before the song has even begun. He can't help it.

Without warning, Yuri turns and starts running. Otabek hurries to set the record playing, and Yuri seems to fly alongside the impulsive blur of an electric guitar, launching straight into a Salchow, impossibly effortlessly and limber despite his outfit, like an ethereal faerie dipped in punk rock. His arms rise and fall like a conductor orchestrating the very music Otabek is commanding. His jumps are otherworldly, gravity-defying, and his choreography resembles a Pollock painting in both emotion and style.

Yuri throws a jacket in his direction, and it skids to a stop. Otabek tears his eyes away from the offending clothing back towards Yuri, now clad in only a loose tank top.

Well. It _did_ seem to be getting hotter in here.

The entire world is captivated by the performance, but none are in as deep as Otabek. His heart is in his throat; he tries not to blink for fear of missing any precious millisecond. It's enthralling, sensational, absolutely moving, like virtual reality but so, so much better, because in the end, it is real life, and he is being pulled along for every step of the ride.

He never expected it would be like this.

After that first meeting, after having talked for a bit, after casually falling in love and trying not to smile too much, Otabek had accidentally let it slip that he was a freelance DJ, and Yuri immediately asked him to approve his exhibition song choice. (Which he did. Obviously.)

Otabek was surprised when Yuri, with a slight blush dusting his cheeks, then proceeded to ask him to be his personal disc jockey for that night. “If I win, that is. I’ll probably win, but–” Yuri had stopped, horrified. “I didn’t mean that you wouldn’t– actually– um– oh my god–”

Otabek smiles inwardly at the memory. Yura always creates this untouchable façade for his audience: even now, on the ice, he seems invincible and unconquerable, and Otabek admires him greatly for that, but when he awkwardly stumbles over his words, it only brings him down to earth. Otabek may or may not keep a mental folder of those moments for safekeeping.

Although right now, with a practiced knee slide à la Johnny Weir, he really is perfect.

It almost seems like Yuri is ballet spotting, like he is keeping his vigilant gaze upon Otabek at all times, inviting him to dance on the ice next to him. And next time, if he asks, Otabek will not hesitate to say yes. But for now, he is happy to provide the musical accompaniment, and fall prey to Yura’s enchanting dance, and join the madness.

**Author's Note:**

> you know that feeling when life grabs hold of you and won't let you go, won't let you accomplish the millions of pressing urgencies life demands you must complete until you pour your entire heart and soul into a few typed characters? that was me for the last thirty seven minutes. so yeah.


End file.
